


Art/ Words: Lost and Found (remix of Snow Bound)

by LFB72



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Art, Birds, Huddling For Warmth, Hypothermia, M/M, Magic, Mountains, Not for remix, Remix, Snow, Traditional Media
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-03 19:54:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10974246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LFB72/pseuds/LFB72
Summary: 8 pieces of traditional Art as part of Camelot Remix 2017Arthur goes walking in the mountains and makes a startling discovery; half buried in the fresh snow is a lithe young man with ivory skin and ebony hair. The foundling is completely bare, exposed flesh pink and frost-nipped  Arthur stops in his tracks at the sight of him, heart pounding and air ripped from his chest.Chapter 1: Art and wordsChapter 2: Art only





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Candymacaron](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Candymacaron/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Snowbound](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4723307) by [Candymacaron](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Candymacaron/pseuds/Candymacaron). 



> Many thanks to the moderators for organising the Camelot remix and to Candymacaron.  
> When I realised you were my remix I was in awe. I admire your art work so much and you write such fantastic stories too. There was so much to choose from but Snow Bound just appealed and I know you like bird Merlin.  
> I don't think anyone could truly match your work but I've tried to stay true to your story and completed the best art work I can with the help of my awesome art / writing betas: Dylogger, Tari-Sue and Caldera32. I really hope you like my interpretation.

 [](http://imgur.com/Ixere4c)

**Art / Words : Lost and Found:**

**For Camelot Remix 2017 - Remix of Candymacaron’s ‘Snow Bound’**

 

The mountain is quiet; Arthur’s been walking for little over an hour and not seen another soul. The hills are usually marred with flashes of neon belonging to backpacks and coats of other walkers but not today; today he is alone and at peace with the elements.

 

Arthur passed his Mountain Leaders’ Certificate without difficulty, as with everything he tries. He has achieved much in his short life but it’s not enough. The ‘A’ grades, the sports trophies - no matter what - his father had always wanted more. Arthur has to be the best and even though the domineering man isn’t around anymore Arthur is determined to live up to his legacy.

 

In a few weeks Arthur will be back in these mountains with cadets. He plans everything and does not leave anything to chance. People have to believe in him, look up to him; that’s why he’s here now, on a day when many would not venture out. He’s going over the routes on his own first.

 

The only sound is of his own harsh breaths as he pushes up the incline and the squeak of his boots as they sink into the virgin snow. He makes great white plumes as he exhales  like the little red steam engine he was so enchanted with as a child.

 

The air is still and cold, giving good visibility; the contour of the mountain ahead equally intimidating and inviting ~~~~he smiles to himself. Pendragons like a challenge.

 

 

The blood looks bright and unnatural against the snow and the body stands out against the white blanket covering the earth.

 

Lying amidst the litter and churned up powder is a merlin. It’s an adult male and it makes Arthur sick to his stomach that such a majestic bird has had its neck broken and been left surrounded by beer cans and debris.

 

Arthur mentally repeats the mountain motto; _‘Take nothing but pictures and leave nothing but footprints.’_ Shaking his head, he crouches down and starts clearing the litter. An eerie silence descends until he approaches the dead bird. A loud squawk erupts from nowhere making him jump. Arthur flinches again as an abandoned duffel bag moves; he reaches out an arm, tentatively loosening the drawstring at the top. Arthur throws his hands up as a second bird bursts its way out with a deafening screech.

 

 [](http://imgur.com/LIUYq6q)

                                        

 

The frenzy of noise is relentless as the merlin tries and fails to fly away. The bird is caught in a net, cords tightly wrapped around its legs and weighing it down

 

The pained squawks send shivers down his spine but Arthur has always been able to think in a crisis. He grabs the netting firmly, trying to free the trapped bird. Wrestling with the terrified merlin, he’s thankful for his thick gloves and jacket which give him protection against the razor sharp beak and claws.

 

 “I’m not trying to hurt you but you need to keep still,” he coos, grabbing the merlin’s legs. After a moment the noise and flapping stops  it’s as if the bird has sensed he is trying to help.

  [](http://imgur.com/9fyMAIv)

                                        

 

Arthur knows what he is doing; he toyed with falconry when he was younger and has some experience of handling these beautiful creatures. He has fond memories of following the gamekeeper around as a child, the estate he grew up on being plenty big enough to house hawks.

 

Lulled into a false sense of security, Arthur wrenches his glove off with his teeth so he can work at the last bit of net caught around the merlin’s leg. Eventually he works the cord free but his triumphant whoop is instantly transformed into a yell of pain as the ungrateful bird nips his digit before flying away.

 

“Fu  ” Arthur yells, shaking his smarting hand. He looks down half expecting to see tattered flesh and not the insignificant speck of crimson adorning his throbbing index finger.

 

The merlin does not go but hovers high overhead as if watching him.

 

“You’re not taking another bite!” He snaps, sucking his finger then forcing his glove back on. Still cursing but calmer and without any real anger, Arthur relents. _What did he expect from a frightened wild animal?_

 

He takes another look at the devastation and sees what he thought were odd bits of rubbish are perhaps not quite as random as first appeared. Sticks and stones are arranged in strange shapes like crosses and pentagons. He kicks at them with his boot, not liking the implications of such symbolism.

 

There are no fresh tracks in the snow. The ice makes it difficult to know how long the birds have been there but whoever did it has long gone. Arthur shudders and makes a note to tell the mountain ranger when he gets back. He should just let nature be, except nothing about this seems natural and he doesn't know if the merlin was poisoned, so he buries it.

 

He carefully wraps the bird in the canvas bag and puts some heavy rocks on top, as he places the last stone he hears a cry. Glancing up he sees the other merlin finally flying away.

 

 

Despite their alleged ‘breathable’ properties Arthur’s expensive undergarments are definitely sticking to his skin. Having lost so much time he has been setting a punishing pace and working up quite a sweat in the process. He has now been walking for several hours and needs a break and some sustenance.

 

The trees are quite sparse at this point on the route but Arthur still seeks their cover when he needs to stop to relieve himself. It’s then he notices the merlin again. His joy is short lived as the bird suddenly plummets from the sky as if injured.

 

                                                                   

[ ](http://imgur.com/tJG3tfZ)

Arthur sprints to where he’d seen the merlin fall. He scrambles over the stone wall and drops  into  a crouch. There is a mass of disturbed snow and Arthur rushes to the spot, carving away the pile with his hands. Uncurling, he stops dead. There is no bird; instead lying naked and half-covered by white powder is the lithe body of a young man with pale skin and a shock of black hair.

 

Arthur has never seen anyone like it; the sight takes his breath and makes his heart hammer. The man’s flesh is pink and frost-nipped but it’s the blueish tint of his lips that shakes Arthur into action.

 

Dropping onto his knees beside the still body, Arthur yells, “Hello! Can you hear me?”

 

There is no response.

 

Seeing no immediate hazards Arthur bends over to check for signs of life. _Is that a faint wisp of air as the man exhales or wishful thinking?_ Pulling off his gloves and, with a shaking hand, Arthur presses two digits against the man’s slender neck and into the groove between the muscles. He is rewarded with a faint thrum of a pulse.

 

                                          

[ ](http://imgur.com/aiinFW9)

 

“Good, that’s good.”

 

 _Now what?_ Arthur swallows and gently palpates the cold skin – nothing appears broken but he’s not a medic. His hands tremble as they ghost over the soft, pale body again and again following the contours of bone, sinew and muscle – there is no response to his touch. He sees no blood, faint bruising around the ankle maybe but just an expanse of chilled flesh, pink cheeks and purple lips.

 

The man will die if he leaves him where he is and in an attempt to wake him up Arthur pinches the man’s ear. Startling blue eyes spring open and teeth sink into Arthur’s wrist.

 

Arthur falls back as the man struggles to his feet, he doesn’t even manage to stand before he’s pitching forward into the snow.

 

In the time it takes Arthur to stem the blood the man has not moved and when Arthur shakes his shoulder there is not so much as a twitch.

 

He carefully turns the body over, noting the red stain on his lips. He should be angry but he can’t stop staring at this strange ethereal creature. He knows hypothermia can make people behave in odd ways and he briefly scans the area, looking for clothes or kit but there’s nothing. Why this foundling is naked and alone are not questions to be answered right now. The priority is to get him warm and call for help.

                                                 

 

 

His thick down coat covers them both. Arthur pulls his charge close to his chest, rubbing his hand against the man’s back  even through the layers he can feel the wing of his scapula. He’s undone his fleece so the man’s bare torso and arms can be wrapped around and absorb the warmth of his own flesh. Arthur can detect the man’s steady heart beat and the sharp crest of his pelvis pressing into his thigh, such is their proximity.

  [](http://imgur.com/VE8dGsR)

The position is intimate. _What would Uther say if he could see them entwined like this?_ Arthur gives an involuntary shudder. He has no doubt at all of his father’s reaction; Leon’s fate all those years ago was testament to that. Despite what happened, what Uther did, Leon is still an attractive man yet Arthur often wonders if his friend’s longish hair and beard are merely fashion accessories or serve to hide the vicious scar that runs along his jaw.

 

This is different. No matter how his body may be responding to another lying on top of it he has no choice; this is a medical emergency, a necessity.

 

Arthur throws his head back and lets out a bark of a laugh. “He’s dead! My father is dead.”

 

His outcry seems too loud in the silence of the mountains. No one answers his statement. The man in his arms remains still but Arthur observes his pupils moving under closed lids and the occasional glimpse of blue when eyelashes flicker. For a moment Arthur questions if it’s all a ruse, a feigned sleep, but dismisses the notion.

 

The lack of judgement is refreshing; it opens the floodgates and Arthur talks. He talks about himself, his plans for the future, and all the time adds reassurance that they will make it out of this situation and everything will be ok.

 

Arthur tries his phone again, but there is no signal. He knows he should move to higher ground but does not want to leave the young man.

 

People tend to remember Arthur and, if not him, certainly his expensive red sports car. He made quite an impression this morning and would certainly be missed if he is not back at the carpark before nightfall.

 

The mountain ranger, Gwaine, had been in the cafe before Arthur set off this morning. He’d grinned at Arthur, tossed his long, wavy brown hair then told him he had to _‘move his pretentious princess car off the road. And if he didn't know what he was doing, he shouldn't be out in the hills on a day like this.’_

Naturally Arthur had taken umbrage and informed the ranger (in no uncertain terms) of his impressive credentials and skill in mountain leading. The other man had eventually backed down a little when it became obvious Arthur did genuinely know his stuff. They’d discussed routes and estimated a finish time; Gwaine had even winked and suggested a drink if he made it back before six. That seemed a lifetime ago now. Checking his watch told him it was nearly four already; there was no way he’d be back by then or even nightfall at this rate.

 

The contents of Arthur’s ruck sack and all his spare kit are wrapped around the man ~~~~who finally appears to be thawing but shows no sign of waking up. Arthur pulls his phone out and tries yet again to make a call but the fancy piece of technology is tantamount to useless and Arthur only just stifles the urge to hurl it. As if that’s not enough, the gadget helpfully beeps to let him know the battery is getting low too.

 

Arthur curses; his legs are going numb with the weight of the other man. He must move soon, not only to regain his circulation but to try and get a signal higher up. He doesn’t want to move – despite the discomfort there’s a strange solace staying where he is. Five more minutes then he’ll go.

 

Arthur sighs, closing his eyes for a moment to clear his head and help him think.

 

 

“Arthur, wake up!”

 

The voice makes Arthur jump and he wants to yell at the idiot shaking him to stop.

 

“Arthur—”

 

“Enough.” Arthur growls, swiping the hand away and letting his eyes focus. “Gwaine?”

 

“Welcome back, my man. Enjoy your sleep?”

 

The weight from his chest is gone. Arthur sits up, looking around.

 

“Where is he?”

 

Gwaine looks quizzical, “Where’s who?”

 

“The other man. The naked man, he was just here.”

 

The is a pause, then Gwaine’s hand brushes against Arthur’s forehead. Irritated Arthur pushes it away and tries to stand up. He’s forced back down by the ranger.

                                [](http://imgur.com/lPzh7H3)

 

 

 

“There is no one here Arthur, no other prints, just you. I got your call and there was no mention of anyone else.”

 

Arthur looks around, his crumpled down jacket lies empty on his lap. “I didn’t make a call. I couldn’t because there was no bloody signal.”

 

Gwaine looks at him sceptically, which annoys Arthur no end.

 

“It wasn’t me, alright? It must have been him.”

 

Gwaine looks away, chews his lip then flicks the hair out of his eyes.

 

“Listen to me Arthur: you made the call. Not only did I recognise those plummy tones from this morning but after you’d given me your location you told me your name, Arthur Pendragon.”

 

There is a hiss and Gwaine’s radio clicks into life. The ranger twists a knob and speaks into the receiver.

 

“Yeah, I’ve got him, Percy.”

 

Arthur can’t make out the reply but Gwaine is eyeing him suspiciously, holding up his finger to signal silence before speaking again.

 

“I think we’re good… no I managed to get the land rover halfway up.” Gwaine stops to listen again, then finishes the conversation. “Yeah, a bit confused, on the verge of hypothermia, we’ll start making our way down.” Gwaine clicks off the radio and pushes it into his pocket.

 

“Come on, let’s get off this mountain shall we? I’ve got some hot chocolate down in the land rover.”

 

Gwaine reaches into his pocket and pulls out an apple, “Hungry?”

 

Arthur shakes his head. He has water and cereal bars in his rucksack, although when he checks, the bottle and packets are empty.

 

The ranger holds the apple between his teeth and uses both free hands to pull Arthur up. He  brushes off the loose snow and helps him back into his jacket.

 

Arthur decides there is no point saying any more about the mysterious young man – Gwaine evidently thinks he’s mad as it is – but it does not stop him looking around, hoping to see some sign of footprints or evidence of another’s presence. There is none, nothing at all to suggest anyone was there other than himself, and Arthur begins to question what happened.

 

 

 

Gwaine checks him over thoroughly before they start making the trek back down the mountain. They walk in silence aside from the crunches emanating from the ranger as he munches yet another apple – the man seems to have an endless supply secreted about his person.

 

Arthur keeps looking back, the sun is quite low now and in his eyes so he can’t see a thing.  He trips. Cursing, Arthur bends over to re-tie his lace and as he crouches down something glints in the snow. His hand finds a fine silver chain. Arthur holds it up and he sees a single feather attached – a merlin feather. He swallows, glancing around, but there is nothing but himself and the ranger.

 

“Take nothing but photos, leave nothing but footprints.”

   

“What was that?” Gwaine says turning to face Arthur.

 

Arthur had not realised he’d spoken out loud. “Nothing just doing my lace.” He replies, hiding the chain.

 

Gwaine nods and carries on walking.

 

Arthur sighs in relief and opens his palm.  He takes off his glove and wraps the chain around his wrist, carefully tucking the feather into his sleeve. That’s when he notices the angry pink crescents on either side of his wrist. Smiling, Arthur whispers,

 

“I’m just borrowing it. I’ll come again and give it back.” He means it too. The mountain isn’t going anywhere – he’ll try again another day. A Pendragon never backs down from a challenge. He puts back his glove and runs to catch up to Gwaine.

 

                                                                            [](http://imgur.com/G1oremD)

 The End


	2. Art only

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 8 pieces of art in coloured pencil and one divider

  [](http://imgur.com/Ixere4c)                                    

                                  

 

 [](http://imgur.com/LIUYq6q)

 [](http://imgur.com/9fyMAIv)

 

 

 [](http://imgur.com/tJG3tfZ) [](http://imgur.com/aiinFW9) [](http://imgur.com/VE8dGsR) [](http://imgur.com/lPzh7H3) [](http://imgur.com/G1oremD)

[ ](http://imgur.com/ul5Y2av)

 

[ ](http://imgur.com/ul5Y2av)

 

The End

 

**Author's Note:**

> The second chapter is art only.  
> Thank you for taking a peek I hope you liked what you saw / read.  
> The mountain I used for inspiration is Meol Saidbod in Snowdonia, it's slightly smaller and less well know but no less intimidating than her bigger sisters.


End file.
